


Blind Spot

by starwheel



Category: Original Work
Genre: Boarding School, M/M, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Power Imbalance, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 07:26:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18132722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwheel/pseuds/starwheel
Summary: Henry is a very heavy sleeper.





	Blind Spot

**Author's Note:**

> Originally wrote this a while ago for a fandom, but changed it to original characters.
> 
> Takes place at a boarding school.

“Rise and shine.”

A strong hand grips his shoulder, jostling him, nothing much gentle about it. He rolls away from it, sprawling on his back, covering his eyes with his hand.

“This is wake-up call number two. Third one involves a jug of water.”

Henry rubs his face with both hands and blinks against the sunlight that’s filling the room.

“Jesus, you really weren’t joking, were you?” Sean laughs. The mattress lifts as he stands up. “It’s like you’re in a coma.”

“What time is it?” Henry says groggily, reaching for his phone on the nightstand.

“Half past. You can still shower if you’re quick.” Sean goes and leans against the desk, picks up a piece of toast wrapped in a paper napkin. He’s dressed and sharp, he’s already been down to the canteen.

Henry throws off the covers and heads for the en suite.

“Thanks,” he calls back as he closes the door.

“We had a whole conversation,” Sean says, later, when Henry's out the shower and getting dressed. “You really don’t remember?”

“No, sorry.” Henry steps into a clean pair of briefs, lets the damp towel fall down. He keeps his back to the older boy as he puts on his uniform shirt, doing up the buttons quickly, standing stiff-backed and a little self-conscious.

“I turned off your alarm? We talked about how you had to change said alarm because it’s fucking horrible? I asked you if you wanted the first shower?”

Henry pulls on his uniform trousers, tucking his shirt in carefully before doing up the button and fly.

“You seriously don’t remember any of that?”

Henry turns to face the other boy, smiling sheepishly.

Sean Kingsford is three years older than Henry and he’d had the double room to himself before Henry had showed up in the middle of term.

“So you can wake up and have a whole conversation” Sean taps two fingers against his kneecap for emphasis, “and then just fall asleep again and forget it ever happened?”

“It drives my mom insane,” Henry says, shaking his head. He folds his shirt collar up and starts knotting his tie, keeping his eyes on his hands as he does it, trying to seem nonchalant about it at the same time. He hasn’t been at Stallworth long. He’s still getting used to the tie. He’s still getting used to sharing a bedroom with someone.

“I, uh,” Henry settles the knot of the tie at his throat. “I’m sorry. That alarm usually works.” 

“It’s loud enough,” Sean snorts.

Henry looks up quickly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. At least there’s no way _I’ll_ oversleep.” Sean pushes himself up out of the chair and slings his bag over his shoulder. “See you later.”

***

Henry's body is heavy. Sleep holds him suspended like there’s the weight of an ocean on all sides. His body is a diving suit with nothing inside, just heavy and boneless.

It seems to happen slowly, but he can feel himself coming up, up, up, like he’s being reeled in.

He’s lying on his stomach, his legs are spread open. There’s something wedged snug between his ass cheeks, warm – someone’s touching him? Rubbing dry and slow, touching him right _there_ , stroking around his asshole.

Henry's waking up. His thoughts are blunted, blurred at the edges. The crush of sleep eases off. He breaths in noisily through his nose, turns his head and pushes his face into the pillow. The touch is gone, he doesn’t know exactly when it stopped. 

He feels the soft weight of sheets settling on top of him and the mattress cover smooth and warm under his body. The pillowcase is uncomfortable against his mouth, smothering. He lifts his head and eases his eyes open. The creases on the pillowcase are out of focus, right up close. There’s a hand roughly shaking his shoulder.

“You awake, man?”

Henry blinks and turns his head. Sean's sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over him.

“Hey,” Henry says thickly. He clears his throat.

“You slept through your alarm again,” Sean says, standing up. 

Henry shuts his eyes, groaning inwardly.

“Sorry.” He turns clumsily over and then freezes. His penis is achingly hard and the elastic band on his briefs has been pushed down under the swell of his ass cheeks. He must have wriggled round in his sleep. 

He shoots a quick look at Sean, mortified. Had the other boy seen anything? Sean stands looking out the window, doing up the buttons on his shirtsleeves. 

Henry sits up awkwardly, keeps the sheets bunched around his crotch.

“Better get up before you fall asleep again,” Sean says, glancing over his shoulder at him.

“Yeah.” Henry forces out a laugh and waits until Sean turns away again before getting up, trying not to be too obvious as he pulls his t-shirt down, quickly walking to the bathroom. He puts the shower on and strips naked, barely getting under the spray before he starts beating off, desperate, leaning his shoulder into the wall, the shower tiles cold against his skin.

***

“I’m sorry. I know it’s…really annoying,” Henry says, lacing his shoes in a rush.

“It’s not like you can help it.” Sean’s lying on his bed, already neatly dressed, a paperback in his hand. “Have alarms ever worked for you?” 

“Sometimes.” Henry goes to the desk and finishes packing his work into his bag. He starts pulling on his blazer.

“Why do you think you’re such a deep sleeper?” Sean says, resting his book on his chest and watching Henry as he puts his arms through the blazer sleeves, tugs the lapels straight.

“Don’t know. My dad’s the same.”

“So was it your mom that always used to get you up in time for school?” Sean says. “That’s _sweet_.”

Henry shoots him an unimpressed look from under his brows.

“And that’s about as close to a ‘fuck you’ as you get, isn’t it?” Sean laughs. “Well. I sleep in on the weekends, so you’re on your own there. I don’t mind the rest of the time.”

“I really don’t expect you to have to–”

“You want me to just leave you to sleep through your morning classes?”

“No, I just-” Henry puts his bag over his shoulder and he’s finally ready to go. “It shouldn’t be your problem.”

“Your alarm’s going to wake me up either way. Makes no difference.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Henry says, awkwardly. He pauses at the door. “Are you coming?”

“Free period.”

“Oh.” Henry looks at the other boy, smartly dressed, lying on his unmade bed, and thinks about apologizing again.

“Better get going,” Sean says, looking at his book again.

***

Sometime Friday night, Henry has an intense wet dream.

He’s lying on his stomach, his legs spread and his asshole full, stuffed full with squirming fingers. In the dream, he can’t move, his arms are heavy and useless at his sides, he’s spread open, no way to resist. He feels a hot sense of shame in the dream, but the fingers moving inside him feel impossibly good. Every now and then a bolt of pleasure snaps through him like an electric shock and he groans and tries to turn his body away from it, it’s too much.

There’s a feeling like vertigo every time he thinks he’s on the brink of waking and he ends up sinking under again.

That fire licking through him again – fingers finding his prostate over and over. He tries to cry out but in the dream he can’t make a sound. He tosses his head, that dogged touch driving him on to the edge of climax. He holds off, trying to fight it, ashamed, his body tensing and his asshole gripping. 

In the instant his orgasm washes through him, he’s awake, he can feel his body, hot and sweaty, the mattress under him – and most of all those fingers inside him. He tells himself not to forget this, this is something he needs to remember. He’s awake. He makes a sound, confused, questioning, and he hears himself make it very distinctly, in the quiet, dark room. Then his eyelids lower and he gives in to the delicious humming fatigue of his body.

He wakes in the morning and he doesn’t remember until he stretches and feels it, the mess of dried come on his skin and his underwear. He starts to reach a hand down his stomach in confusion, then stills, letting the memory of the dream float to the surface. It still seems tangible, he even feels a twinge of arousal remembering it. He hasn’t had a dream quite like that before. He tries to recall the precise moment of climax, when he’d woken briefly. He turns his head and looks over at Sean’s bed. The other boy is still sleeping. Henry cringes as he sits up, wondering if he made noises during the dream.

He keeps thinking about the dream as he showers. He snorts and shakes his head, smiling to himself. He scrubs his skin with a soapy shower pouf, pausing as he goes to clean between his ass cheeks. He reaches back and feels with his fingers, frowning as he touches himself. Did his anus feel a little tender? He bends his head into the spray, pressing his eyes shut, hot water dribbling thick down his cheeks and off the end of his nose, his mouth. He pushes one finger slowly into his ass. It slides in. He adjusts how he's standing and experimentally eases his finger in deeper. He pulls it out again quickly. He's all soapy down his crack from the shower gel. 

That’s it then. It’s just the shower gel that makes it easy.

Henry finishes washing and doesn’t think about it any more.

***

“Do you always comb your hair like that?”

Sean’s got the window in the bedroom wide open and he’s sitting cross-legged on the desk, smoking. 

The mist has gone out of the air in the bathroom and the condensation on the mirror is streaming so Henry has to keep wiping it with the flannel. He lifts his shoulder in a shrug, lays his comb on the shelf. 

Sean is a dribbling dark shape against the white rectangle of the window.

“Sharp look,” Sean says, perhaps a little mockingly. It’s hard to tell. Henry turns, leaning his hip against the sink, smiling thin and self-deprecating, waiting for more.

“Were you always this well-groomed?” Sean pulls on his cigarette, reaches back and taps ash into a coffee mug. One of the curtains has come free of its tie. It swells with the breeze and flaps against Sean’s shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Henry says, still smiling, not liking the conversation.

“Well, it’s a good look.” Sean pushes the curtain away with his arm. “Very Stallworth. You look like you belong.” He puts the cigarette between his lips again. “Meant to ask. How did your audition go?”

“Oh.” Henry's surprised the older boy remembered he was trying out for choir. “I don't find out until next week.”

“Are you any good?”

Henry laughs. “I don’t know.”

“You must be pretty good. You should sing me something some time.”

Henry snorts and turns his head aside, bracing his hands on the sink behind him, the enamel chilly and slick.

“I think it’s the least you can do for being such a disruptive roommate,” Sean says. “I am the one who gets you up every morning.” 

It seems like a joke, but it feels a little close to the bone. They still don’t know each other that well and Henry hates the idea that he’s an annoyance.

“Your face,” Sean laughs suddenly. “Jesus, I’m kidding.” He holds out his cigarette to Henry.

“No thanks,” Henry says.

“Wouldn’t do your voice any good I suppose.” Sean goes to the window, stubs the cigarette out on the sandstone brick and then tosses the butt away. He pulls the lower sash of the window down, carefully, so the panes don’t rattle too much. The curtain settles and the room seems quieter. Sean picks up the mug from the desk and comes into the small bathroom. Henry steps away from the sink.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Sean says, rinsing the mug out. “I should quit but my self control's never been up to much.”

***

Tuesday evening Henry comes back exhausted, just manages to dump his bag and blazer on the desk before falling back onto his bed. He crooks his elbow against the wall and hides his eyes behind his fingers. He should really be starting work on his English essay before dinner, but he can’t bring himself to move. His legs are still aching from the hour he spent running around playing lacrosse during second period, and his mind is swimming with all the work he has to get done before the end of the week.

He wakes up with a jolt.

The sky outside the window is a lot darker. His arm is aching numb and he winces as he straightens it out, rubbing at the cold patch on his elbow and huffing a pained laugh as he endures the prickling burn of pins and needles.

Sean still isn’t back, even though dinner must have ended by now. His side of the room looks grey and deserted, the bed still unmade from the morning.

Henry gets up and changes out of his uniform, into sweat pants and a t-shirt. He tidies up his side of the room a little before finally sitting down and sorting through his textbooks and work notes. He yawns and stretches and sighs.

He leaves the desk lamp on and goes back to bed, climbs under the covers, tells himself he’ll only nap for an hour, that’s all he needs. If he can just close his eyes for an hour.

***

The room is pitch black and he’s in pain, his asshole burning, stretched around hot hard flesh. He’s on his stomach, there’s a weight across the back of his legs holding him down, hands holding his ass cheeks open. He’s being fucked. The bed’s creaking softly, his limp body taking the impact of each thrust, a wrenching ache with every slippery tight plunge of the man’s cock, invading him, fucking slick into of his ass, inescapable.

Henry cries out thickly, trying to lift his head, shake it all off, wake up. Someone is pinning him, heavy on top of him, hands stroking over his naked body, gripping at his ass cheek and Henry can feel the man’s panting breath, the pace of the man’s thrusts quickening, his cock penetrating deep into Henry's asshole over and over. 

“ _Fuck…_ ” a ragged voice groans.

A strangled noise comes out of Henry's throat, it’s the thing that really wakes him, how not-right his own voice sounds.

He fights to kick his legs out, get his hands under him so he can push himself up.

“Fuck - just wait,” Sean pants. It is Sean, it can only be Sean. His rhythm goes uneven, but he keeps at it, sinking his cock into Henry's ass over and over with deep, greedy thrusts. Henry jerks his head up sharply and the back of his head catches Sean on the chin. Sean swears and takes his weight off him for a second, bracing his weight on his arms, but his penis stays buried in Henry's ass. Henry's going to push up, shove the older boy off, but then there's a hand wrapped around his throat for a moment, squeezing for just a second, and then gone.

“Just take it easy,” Sean grunts, his hand going to the back of Henry’s head. He pushes Henry's face down into the pillow. Sean moves on top of him, shifting around to keep his weight bearing down on him, and Henry can feel Sean’s penis moving inside him with every jostle of Sean's hips. It's big, painfully big. 

Their bodies are sweaty and clinched, limbs struggling and shifting for a moment, then carefully, Sean eases his hips up, his big penis slides back through the tight ring of Henry's anus until just the head is gripped inside, then Sean thrusts slowly back in, sinking _deep_ into Henry's body. Henry's mouth stretches wide open, his eyes screwed tight shut.

“That’s it,” Sean’s saying in his ear. “That’s it.” He does it again. Again, Henry feels the big penis pulling out part-way, then easing back in, burying itself in his ass. It happens again, again. 

Henry can't move.

The pillowcase is wet around his mouth as he breathes. Sean is rocking his hips now, he mattress springs creaking again. Henry's asshole is stretched helpless around Sean’s cock, his ass is slippery and lubed and just taking it, powerless to refuse it. Sean huffs a low moan and he's really fucking Henry's ass now, determined at a particular angle.

"Mm, fuck," Sean pants. Henry can hear everything, Sean's fast breathing like he's exercising, the obscene slap of Sean's hips connecting with Henry's ass cheeks, the wet sound as Sean's ballsack hitting up against Henry's perineum each time Sean's cock fucks him deep.

Henry is hard. He’s been hard the whole time. He’s got the pillowcase fisted his hand. It’s pleasure, laying into him, beating him down.

“Oh, yeah. Fuck, yeah,” Sean whispers shakily. His thighs are behind Henry's thighs, his knees behind Henry's knees, keeping Henry's legs spread wide. Henry is splayed open for him. Sean's keeping him posed how he wants him. There's no resisting it. Henry's ass is defenceless and Sean's taking full advantage of it, riding his ass, burying his big dick deep inside the younger boy over and over.

He's hitting a spot inside Henry unerringly. Henry flinches and twists, his face screwed tight, his mouth gaping wide open, no sound coming out, even while he’s coming he can’t get a sound out.

“Fuck,” Sean says, he laughs, incredulous. “Did you just fucking cum?” then, “Hey, no, come on. Fuck, come on, man,” his voice somewhere between irritated and pleading because Henry has started struggling again, weakly, trying to get out from under Sean. “Just wait–” Sean’s hand on the small of Henry's back, pressing him down. "Fuck, just let me–" 

Sean’s hand presses down on his back and it's like the weight of a concrete block. _Just let him finish and it'll be over_ something in Henry says, and all will to resist deserts him again. He goes limp. He lies there and takes it. 

Sean fucks him fast and rough now, his body jolting Henry's, making both of them bounce a little with the spring of the mattress, the whole bed creaking, Sean’s hips pounding down into Henry's buttocks fast and hard.

Sean falls on top of Henry as he comes, grinding his hips shuddering against Henry's ass, his cock buried fat and triumphant in Henry's asshole. He keeps thrusting, over and over, slowing down, fucking Henry’s hole slippery and hot, groaning low in his throat.

“Alright,” he says breathlessly as Henry tries to push him away. “Alright, man, just –” He rolls off. Henry gets up and catches his foot on something lying on the floor – a pile of clothes – and he falls, cracking his arm hard on the corner of the nightstand as he tries to catch himself. He hardly feels it. He fumbles up and makes it into the bathroom and shuts the door just as Sean puts on the lamp.

Henry stands in the dark, the light coming in under the door in a thin strip. Warm slime is running down his leg. He wads up toilet paper in his hand and starts to wipe himself. His asshole is aching, swollen and wet, he wipes the toilet paper there once and then he sits down on the toilet and he can’t stand up again. He sits in the dark holding the sticky damp toilet paper in his hand, trying to breathe very quietly.

The strip of light under the door is disrupted and Sean knocks twice.

“Henry? You okay?”

“Yeah,” Henry says. His voice comes out eerily normal-sounding. “I’m fine.”

There’s silence from the other side of the door. The two blocks of shadow where Sean’s feet are planted shift a little.

“Okay.”

Sean moves back from the door. It feels like a long stretch of time goes by and nothing happens. The light stays on and glows under the gap of the door and Henry sits naked on the toilet seat and stares at it. He can still see it when he closes his eyes, a fluorescent stripe burnt on his eyelids.

***


End file.
